Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks
by SignedSealedWritten
Summary: The BAU team vist Hotch after he is shot by Foyet, mini-series.
1. In Waiting

Author's Note:

This story was published before any promos for the Season Five of Criminal Minds were released, and were written under the assumption that Hotch was shot by Foyet at the end of the fourth season. The entire story is written under the presumption, it does not follow the premiere of the fifth season. In that way, it could be considered AU – as if Hotch was shot. Most of it – save for the final three or four chapters –were written before any promo was released, and those chapters – the four or five that were written after – continued in this story's timeline. I had no knowledge of the season's opener when I wrote this, and continued to write it as if I had no knowledge even after the promo was released.

So, just for knowledge of anybody confused: This story takes place as if Hotch was shot by Foyet after the season four finale.

This author's note was added on the 23rd of September, for reference of anybody who was confused.

**Criminal Minds**

For the most enduring stretch of time, no words were passed. The silence stretched eternal, ringing at the ears of each agent, stinging behind their eyes, eliciting no longer hidden tears. Life seemed to go on without the six men and women, as if they had created a separate sphere, outside of which the world hurried on, hurtling towards its next destination. Nurses and doctors whistled by, patients families fretted – some eventually relieved of worrying, others not – and patients came and went. All of this went unnoticed by the BAU, each lost in their collectively separate world.

Spencer Reid sat rigidly in one of the plastic chairs; his mind running through gunshot wound statistics like rapid fire pinball. They bounced off of the inside of his skull, ricocheting almost painfully. Every few moments, he would take a breath and open his mouth to state one, immediately thinking the better of it and closing his mouth again. His left knee bounced, the fingers of his right hand tapping on the corresponding knee involuntarily. This game wasn't fun to play, the waiting game.

Derek Morgan refused to sit, instead pacing back and forth in front of the rest of his team. His right hand was clenched in a fist; he was muttering words that no one could catch. Twice had his fist made contact with the wall, earning a shocked response from nearby nurses. The BAU team, however, registered no shock at this – they could no longer process any more shock that day.

David Rossi sat with his back to the wall, his head tilted upwards. Before that day, none of the team had seen him cry. No one had seen a man so efficient at both spilling tears and ordering nurses to tell them exactly what was happening simultaneously. Finally, however, shock had stung him too, and he remained still.

Emily Prentiss sat next to Rossi, her eyes remaining on the wall in front of her, deep in thought. Every few moments, she would change the cross of her ankles, left to right, right to left. She felt as if she could hear the tick-tocking of the clock; her eye frequently returned to it. Hadn't it been too long by now? 3:30 AM. 4:21 AM. Time passed both slowly and quickly, agonizing.

Jennifer Jareau sat next to Reid, and had long since exhausted her tear supply. Now her head rested lightly against Reid's shoulder, her eyes closed but unsleeping. The team had tried to send her home to Henry, telling her that they'd phone as soon as anything should happen, but she'd refused. Will was home with him; they needed her here. Reid's hand came to rest lightly on hers; he gave it a gentle squeeze.

It was Penelope Garcia who broke the silence.

When words of cheeriness had failed her, she'd sat somberly, eyes on her hands in her lap. Garcia had tried, almost successfully, to not think of her boss in the state that he was in. It was the thought of his son's earlier words to them that had done her in.

He and Haley had stopped by for as long as they could without alarming the young boy. He'd been clueless, speaking of spending a forthcoming vacation weekend with his Daddy.

"Oh god…" She whispered, the flood gates cracking. Shoving her face into her hands, she'd begun to sob.

The protective silence that had shielded them had been cracked.

"I'm going to get a nurse." Rossi announced, his voice hard as he stood from his chair and stormed towards the nurse's station.

"You mean _terrorize_ a nurse." Prentiss muttered, hitting her head lightly against the wall.

"Maybe someone should stop him…?" Reid said, his eyes following a finger-jabbing and vocally abrasive Rossi. "Before they kick us out?" His question went unnoticed.

Morgan sat for what seemed like the first time in ages, closing his arms around the shuddering Garcia. He longed to remove all this from her view, to not let it hurt her – but that was impossible. Instead, he cradled her until her sobs subsided. They all yearned for something now – these moments were the ones nobody would get used to. They hoped that this would be the last time they had to wait for a friend like this. They hoped to find Foyet.

But most of all, and more than anything, they wished for Hotch to wake up.

They waited for long hours into the night.

---

TBC

_Author's note: _

_This is the beginning of a mini-series, revolving around the events that take place after To Hell… and Back. _


	2. Fighter

**Criminal Minds**

The Behavioral Analysis Unit was not unaccustomed to waiting. Patience was an asset that they couldn't afford not to have – long hours sitting hidden in a car, days waiting for a case to come through to them, standing hidden against a wall waiting for a suspect to come by – these were the types of waiting that the agents were used to.

This did not fall under the same category, and as many times as they would have to do this type of waiting, they would not get used to it.

Morgan, by some miracle, had not resumed his pacing – he instead sat next to Garcia, around whom he rested his arm. The rest of the BAU kept up the same motions as previous hours, if not in a more agitated, worried way.

It was nearing sunrise when a man – unkempt blonde hair, sharp gray eyes that held a certain weariness to them, as if he'd seen too much, and blue scrubs – came to stand before the six men and woman.

"Aaron Hotchner?"

Six faces, long since past the point where tired could be considered an emotion on their faces, turned to the doctor that spoke to them now.

"You're all family?" The doctor's bewilderment was clearly written across his face – seeing as he'd been busy taking care of the man in question, he hadn't witnessed the six agents sitting for long hours, waiting.

"His ex-wife and young son left some time ago – we're here for him now, but if you'd like, a simple phone call can approve this with woman in question." Rossi said, voice strong. "Though I don't think you'll find that necessary." Quick as a whip, he flashed his badge. Agent Rossi didn't have to look behind him to know that the rest of them had done just the same. "FBI, sir – fellow agents of your patient."

"I, uh-" The doctor took a deep breath, trying in vain to hide his surprise. "Alright." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "My name is Doctor Breslin, I've been caring for Aaron Hotchner. The bullet hit the left side of his chest."

"Is he stable?" Prentiss asked. "Can we visit him?"

"For now, he's stable – he's not out of the woods yet. We had to resuscitate Aaron twice." The faces of the BAU fell considerably. "His left lung collapsed, so he's been put on a respirator. There was considerable damage to his collarbone, where the bullet ricocheted. For visiting, I'll allow for half of you to go at a time, quickly for now, no more than three minutes – just until things are more certain, then I think it would be helpful for one of you to stay at all times."

"That won't be a problem." Morgan asserted, eyes darting to his coworkers.

"Do you see a full recovery?" Reid asked, eyes intent.

"It's uncertain- most of this will be up to Aaron himself."

"Then it's certain." Rossi said, nearly growling. "Aaron doesn't give up."

---

TBC

_Author's Note: _

_Hello again – I was so glad for the response that I got from all my readers! Most of the chapters here on in will be much longer than this – these two are just expositions, setting up what's happened so far, things like that – I promise it'll get more interesting here on out. _

_Thanks to the five reviewers – Agnixx, Ramona, nexis44, Sami Marie, and Ecda! You all made my day. _


	3. Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks

**Criminal Minds **

"If you'd like, I can bring three of you down to the ICU to visit Mr. Hotchner. It's a stretch of our rules, so I'll bring the three of you personally." His eyes, older than his thirty or so years, scanned the group, asking them silently who would be going. When Rossi rose from his seat to join the doctor, nobody muttered a word of protest.

When Reid met the eyes of the others, Morgan nodded. "I'll go with Garcia." He didn't wish to leave her alone right now. Besides, he needed her as much as she needed him. Prentiss nodded towards JJ, letting her know to go with Rossi and Reid. She rose and joined the group heading towards the ICU.

"Now, remember, he'll be hooked up to a ventilator, due to his lung." Doctor Breslin said, and the group nodded their recognition. "Once he wakes, we'll be keeping him on sedatives so he doesn't become worked up." He continued as they rounded a corner, the ICU coming into view through a swinging double door.

Hotch's room was third on the right.

Rossi led the way, as Doctor Breslin hung back now. The room upon which they entered was a private room, spacious, but Agent Rossi felt that on stepping inside, the walls closed in, suffocating him.

The bed in the middle of the room held the man that they'd all come to respect, and honor. Seeing him without a suit shocked Reid, who'd nearly come to believe that a black suit and tie were his natural skin. Aaron Hotchner had a thin hospital sheet covering his lower half. His chest was bare, but that hardly mattered for the large white bandage that covered one half of it. Wires exited and entered his body everywhere one could look.

No one could ignore the machine that breathed for him, a sound that seemed to suck away the silence, keeping time, a ticking clock.

"Aaron." The word escaped Rossi, breaking the haunting feel that had taken over the room. "I, uh…" The senior profiler reached a hand into his pocket and removed something, taking a step forward to the table that stood some ways away from his bedside. JJ wrapped a shaking hand around Reid's as Rossi placed something on the table.

Rossi backed away, and Reid's eyes lit upon the object- Hotch's FBI badge.

"I took it from his house. He doesn't like not having it." Rossi said, explaining himself. When the BAU had gotten the call that their Unit Chief had been shot in his home, they'd rushed there immediately, just in time for a departing ambulance. "Aaron, we'll catch that bastard for you. You just focus on getting well."

"He's right, we've got everything handled." JJ offered, trying to keep the tears that threatened to intrude, at bay. "Jack, he was here for awhile. He's fine, Haley's fine. They just need you back."

"We all do." Reid added, his voice far more quiet than normal. "Soon, if at all possible. Before Morgan puts a fist through a wall or Rossi scares a nurse into giving two weeks notice." Reid viewed Rossi with a certain amount of fear in his eyes, but was elated to see the older agent crack a smile – it had seemed days since he last saw one of those rare expressions from anybody.

"I may have frightened a few." Rossi admitted, just as Doctor Breslin entered the room himself, signaling that their time had run out.

---

Morgan, Garcia, and Prentiss entered the hospital room together, having received the same debriefing from Doctor Breslin as Rossi, Reid, and JJ.

Morgan's eyes slid closed briefly upon seeing his boss in such a condition, neither conscious or breathing on his own. He barely managed to take a breath himself, feeling slightly dizzy. This was wrong – a man such as Aaron Hotchner shouldn't be in this condition.

"Handsome as ever, boss man." Garcia said, her voice hoarse from her crying. "Don't let that get you down." Her words received no reaction from the man in question, unconscious as he was, but then again, she hadn't expected any. The blonde blew him a kiss, and Morgan snaked his arm around her.

"I, uh," Prentiss sighed, shaking her head slightly and starting over. "You scared us."

"And trust me, man, we're not easy to scare." Morgan added, entirely truthful. "I'd rather face down seventeen serial killers than this, any day." He muttered, shaking his head in anger.

"I think that goes for all of us." Prentiss offered.

"Me too, and that's more than I've faced in, well, an entire lifetime." Garcia said, eliciting a laugh from the group. Doctor Breslin appeared behind them, nodding in confirmation of their suspicion that time was up.

"Darn, boss man, that's our cue – I better be seeing your _smiling_ face tomorrow, yes?" With another blown kiss, Garcia exited the door.

"Ditto on what she said." Said Morgan, following her out the door. Prentiss remained a second longer, her eyes on her boss's still form. After another moment, and another nod, she turned and exited the room, realizing just how lucky Hotch had been.

This wasn't over yet.

---

TBC

_Author's Note: _

_Well, this one was slightly longer – more to come, my readers! _

_This chapter's going out to Agnixx, Happy Birthday. Me liking Criminal Minds is your fault. Entirely. As are most things. _

_Thanks to my reviewers- Sami Marie, Nexis44, Ecda, GreenIz, and jeannieann. _

_Until next time! _


	4. Knitting Needles

**Criminal Minds**

**Garcia**

"Alright, handsome boss-man," The blonde woman said upon entering the hospital room. Over one shoulder she carried a large bag depicting a squirrel playing the drums. She liked to think of it as her 'Mary Poppins Bag'. It had everything and anything that the technical analyst could possibly need. Tucked under her other arm was a teddy bear bigger than Jack Hotchner. "You're stuck with me."

Penelope Garcia placed the jumbo sized teddy bear on the window-sill, positioning it so that it looked as if it were smiling at her boss and her boss alone. She was sure that Hotch would kill her for it, but it was forty dollars well spent, and she'd deal with that bridge when she crossed it. She stared at it for a moment longer, fixing its arms into a huggable position. "There we are."

In the meantime, Garcia pulled a wooden green-cushioned chair next to her boss's bed and plopped herself into it, placing her bag at her feet. She hadn't yet received a response from him, but she didn't expect to. S.S.A. Hotchner wouldn't be waking up any time soon.

It had been three days since the shooting in Hotchner's apartment, and Garcia was sure that the hospital had seen enough of the BAU by now to last a lifetime. Yesterday, the doctor had finally consented to allowing him to come off of the ventilator, a feat that helped assure Garcia of his recovery. They were now keeping him on heavy sedatives, as they had previously established that they would, and one of the BAU were staying with him at all times, starting today, which they were more than glad to do.

Garcia had first shift. She knew that without a doubt once those sedatives were taken away, there would be a wealth of pain from the bullet that had slammed into him, so Garcia was glad to see that for now at least, her boss looked peaceful.

"Haley and Jack were here, I don't know if you remember." Garcia babbled. "They just left a bit ago. I made sure they both got a good lunch; Jack got Mac and Cheese special from the Garcia kitchen." She paused. "Okay, so it was from a box, but I added extra cheese and everything. I think he liked it. I offered Haley some, but she didn't really seem up to eating, but Morgan was so I fed him too." She took a deep breath, having said all of the previous in one gasp of air.

"So," She paused, slightly embarrassed at her own rambling idiocy. "Oh, you want to know what's in the bag? Well, I'll tell you what I've got in the bag. Everything, that's what." She said without hesitation, and reached into the bag.

The first thing she pulled out was two long sticks with yarn between them. "These are knitting needles. You wonder why I have brought knitting needles with me? These," She said, pointing to the glob of blue yarn between the sticks. "are gloves. I thought about making them for you, but I figured that I liked keeping my head attached to my neck, and I decided to make them for your son." With a confused look, she turned the needles around in her hands.

"I, uh, hope Jack doesn't mind gloves with only three fingers. Because this is my first knitting project that isn't a scarf." She confessed this fact in a dignified matter, placing the 'project' on her lap.

"I have more inside this bag, but ah, those are my secrets and my secrets alone, and if you want to find them out you must get better. _That_ is my condition." Garcia nodded decidedly, and ran her hand over the navy blue yarn.

"I'm serious, Hotch." She tapped her fingers on the edge of the chair. "I know you don't like smiling, but we over at the BAU are like McDonalds. We love to see you smile. So you're going to get well, and show us that big old smile of yours again." She paused, furrowing her brow. "Except, we don't have as good coffee as McDonalds does, and I think that needs fixing."

Completely on a whim, the tech analyst reached out her hand and placed it over Hotchner's, giving it a small squeeze, shocking herself.

"We were just all so worried." She murmured, looking down at the knitting project in her lap. "They're only letting one of us in at a time, but someone's going to be here constantly. You're not going to wake up alone. Rest of 'em are out on the job. You know, the entire team was here for nearly twenty four hours the first day?" She grinned. "True story, we tried to insist that JJ head on home before Will lost his mind, but she's too stubborn. Then you were out of surgery and we saw you quickly and got sent packing."

"Rossi almost killed a nurse, Morgan almost ensured that this place would need to hire a contractor to fix their walls, and Haley almost left a Nascar worthy track from her pacing. I'm proud to say I did _not _hack into the system to find out how you were doing… more than once." Her tendency to babble when under stress had peaked, and it was being used to soothe herself and not Hotch, but it was all she knew to do. She couldn't fix this like she could fix a computer bug.

She wished she could.

But she couldn't. And it killed her. She absolutely despised that she couldn't help this time. She'd have to leave it to the boys and girls back at Quantico to save the day. To find Foyet.

That was something she couldn't even bear to mention.

"Get well soon, okay? I need all my little ducklings."

The clack of the knitting needles filled the room.

--

TBC

_Author's Note: _

_I intend to do a visit for each of the team, yes, in case anybody was wondering. If any of you have ideas for a chapter that you wish to see, let me know please! I'm definitely open to suggestions from the readers. I'm also stunned by the response that I've received – fourteen reviews for three chapters is pretty good in my eyes. _

_This one's going out to nexis44 – the conversation at four in the morning made my day. _

_Thank you to all of my reviewers – nexis44, Sami Marie, jeannieann Lenni George, and Agnixx (yes, chapters that you haven't read already are a rarity – this ones been edited since you've last seen it, if you haven't noticed.)_


	5. Pretender

**Criminal Minds**

**JJ**

The blond media liaison entered the hospital room shyly, her hands clasping each other in front of her stomach. The giant bouquet of mixed flowers that she and Prentiss had collaborated on was visible on the window sill, next to the oversized stuffed bear. JJ couldn't help but let a smile creep onto her lips. Penelope Garcia's mark was visible anywhere. It was nearly five days now since the shooting, and Garcia had stayed for most of the first two, while the rest of the team had been out on the case, searching for Foyet. She'd been dealing with the media – an escaped media killer and FBI agent in near critical condition definitely stirred up the news stations, both local and national.

Now, JJ had been freed of the media curse, and had gladly taken on Garcia's duties.

Making no sound, she placed her purse by the end of the hospital bed and moved to the flowers. She touched one of the lilacs cautiously, making sure they weren't wilting yet. She and Emily had brought them on the second day of Hotch's stay in the hospital. A small second vase had been placed there, three yellow roses. Checking behind her guiltily, JJ flipped open the small, business card sized tag lying next to them.

'_Get back to that rare smile of yours soon. They need you. – An old friend.'_

JJ had a feeling that she knew exactly who the roses were from. The thought of the simple gesture from one of their former team members put a smile on her lips.

"Nurse wat'ed 'em."

Blue eyes widening, JJ slowly spun around, the card hastily placed in its original position. The words had been pained, slurred, hoarse … but she'd recognize his voice, any of her their voices, anywhere. Still, the name was a question when spoken. "… Hotch?"

"Flow'rs from Elle." He confirmed JJ's suspicions, dark eyes blinking heavily and focusing on his team member. Each of his words seemed more pained than the last, the shape of his mouth a permanent grimace.

Her eyes traveled to the window, looking passed the hall to the nurse's station, and then back to her superior. Deciding hastily to go to him first, she moved to the chair by his side. "Hotch, did you just wake up?" She kept her voice quiet and unalarmed.

"'While ago." He answered shortly, stopping to fill his lungs again. "Pr'tend I'm 'sleep."

Realization dawned on her as she pushed a hand through her hair. "_Hotch_."

"No more sed'tives." Though slurred and groggily, the sentence was surprisingly like a command, enough so that JJ nearly reconsidered going to get a nurse. "Where's Jack?"

"Hotch, I don't think…" Her voice tapered off. She'd been about to tell him that having his son see him in this condition – pale, with IVS, his shoulder bandaged, slurring his words- would not be the best idea for the young boy, but she didn't have the heart to do it. There was no doubt in the young agent's mind that she'd have asked insistently for Henry by then.

"I know." A rare smile, not his normal, a quieter, sadder one, appeared on his lips. "Wouldn't do that to him. Just ask'n, he 'n H'ley okay?" He grimaced suddenly at the longer sentence.

JJ closed her eyes, fighting back a tear. She gently placed her hand over his, giving it a small squeeze. "Jack stayed here for awhile, in one of the waiting rooms, with Haley. Garcia made him Mac and Cheese, because he told her that Mac and Cheese was his Daddy's favorite." Turning slightly, she pointed to the wall directly opposite her boss's bed, in his line of sight. "He drew you that. You, Mommy, and him."

Hotch's eyes closed, his breathing labored. It was only after a few moments that JJ realized he was fighting back tears. Her eyes again traveled to the nurse's station. The sedatives purpose was to keep her boss from situations like this, where his heart rate could become elevated. JJ fought within herself the decision of whether she should stay or not; this was something personal.

"Hotch, I'll be right back." She made her decision swiftly. "I'm going to get one of the nurses." Frankly, it scared her to see the infallible Aaron Hotchner looking so weak, afraid, and upset. She thought of her own son, unable to imagine the pain Hotch must be going through, probably having thought he'd never see him again.

"Use th' call b'tton?"

His voice, considerably weaker than his previous sentence, stopped JJ in her tracks once again. When she turned back, she saw the smallest flicker of fear in her superior's eyes. Guilt consumed her, while Elle had been better at hiding it, she'd been through the same emotions after being shot by the Fisher King in her home. JJ's heart ached as she thought of Spence, remembering the panic she'd seen in his eyes when she'd left his side to retrieve a nurse; how could she have made the same exact mistake again? At the same time, relief flooded through her. If he admitted to it now, things were less likely to go in the route of Elle.

"Sure thing, Hotch." She returned to the bed, pressing the small, red button for nurses assistance. "Mr. Hotchner's awake." She spoke into the speaker, slipping into professional mode. "He's requesting a lesser dose of sedatives."

After the nurse's assurance that she'd speak to his doctor of it, she turned back to find a tight lipped smile on Hotch's face.

She paused, puzzled. "… what?"

"You're d'moted t' the g'teway b'tween nurse and p'tient." His rare humor slipped out, and JJ sunk into the chair again, unable to keep a smile from her face.

Perhaps things would be alright after all.

--

TBC

_Author's Note: _

_Thank you for the suggestions – I'll definitely take them all into mind. This chapter skipped a day or so since the last one – if you want to see Elle's visit, let me know, I'm thinking about writing it. Also, thank you for all of the reviews, again, it makes me smile. Nexis44, Lenni George, DaDaDa – I thank you all, as well as those readers who didn't review – but I wish you had! _

_Still up for suggestions and such. _

_This one's for Agni again – talking to yourself is fun. As are inside jokes. xDDD_


	6. Apology

**Criminal Minds**

**Elle**

She'd heard it on the news.

Her apartment was a small one, but it suited her. Her feet curled beneath her, a mug of coffee in her left hand, she'd settled into her armchair for some late night TV. Her hair, since grown out, fell around her shoulders as she flipped the channels, trying to find something to settle on. Her former life, the BAU, was far from her mind as she chose the evening news, channel seven.

"Wendy Chester, following up on last night's shooting." A dark haired woman stood in front of a house that was obviously a green screen. Elle took a sip of her coffee, burning her tongue. "We have confirmation that the man who lived here was indeed an agent of the FBI, who is now in stable condition at an undisclosed hospital." Elle placed the cup of coffee back down on the table, leaning forward. "FBI Agent Aaron Hotchner was shot by this man-" A mug shot of Foyet flashed on the screen, and Elle was already on her feet.

"Foyet, you damn son of a bitch." She cursed, snatching her pocket book off of the kitchen table and grabbing her keys. She might not be in the BAU anymore, but once upon a time, Aaron Hotchner had been there for her –even if she hadn't seen it then.

Foot pressing down on the gas pedal, she held the cell phone between her right ear and shoulder, muttering into the phone, hoping it wasn't too late for the woman on the other end of the line to answer. "C'mon, Garcia." She hissed, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, stopping herself from hissing words she'd rather not say.

"Speak and be heard,"

Elle had never heard such an amazing sound in her life. "Pen… Pen, it's me."

There was a moment's pause. "Elle?"

She continued down the street, heading in the direction of the nearest airport. "Yeah, it's me." She took a left down another street. "I'm on my way." She said, murmuring the next sentence. "I was watching the news. What hospital, Pen?"

Garcia rattled off a name. "Elle, you should know…" Garcia swallowed. "He's on a ventilator, Elle. Foyet got him when he entered the house, he was waiting for him…" She trailed off, realizing what she'd said.

"The one place anyone deserves to feel safe in." Elle whispered, shaking her head angrily. "He doesn't deserve this."

"No," Penelope agreed. "Nobody does."

--

It was early the next morning when she arrived.

There were three yellow roses in the vase she carried as she moved towards her former bosses' hospital room, heels clacking on the fake tile floor. The former FBI agent hadn't had to do nearly as much work to find his room number as she thought she would have to, and she chalked it up to Garcia. He was in ICU for the second full day, something that Elle cringed at. No, he didn't deserve this. Hotch was a good, honest man.

Her dark eyes darted either way upon finding his hospital room, making sure that there were no doctors near. She'd heard earlier from Garcia that visiting time was three minutes – but perhaps if nobody saw her enter, she'd be able to steal just a few more minutes. The coast was clear, and she pushed the door open, letting it close silently behind her.

Seeing him came as a shock to her.

It was the rhythmic pumping of the machine that breathed for him that unnerved Elle the most. It wasn't natural for the man that was the cornerstone of her former team to be connected to something as inhuman as that.

She closed her eyes, steeled her nerves, and moved to the windowsill to place down the roses. She hoped that, somehow, he'd know who they were from. She wished she had the nerve to say something to the rest of her former team – but she doubted they'd wish to see her, after the way she'd left. This, this was safe – he didn't even know she was here, and if he did, there was no way that he would tell her to leave.

Elle pulled a chair up to the side of the bed that held the least machinery, twisting the handle of her purse in between her hands. Why had she come here, anyway? To stare at her unresponsive former boss?

She sighed and pushed a hand through her hair.

"You know, Hotch, there were so many times I wanted to call you or one of the team, especially after what happened to Reid right after I left." She began, resting her head on her hands. "I probably should have visited then. But I was too …" She shook her head. "I don't know. I just couldn't bring myself to visit." She hissed angrily.

"Then last night, I saw the news. I didn't even hesitate." One of her hands reached out, but she stopped and pulled it back. "I'm so sorry, Hotch." She whispered. "You of all people don't deserve this." She shook her head. "I know what it's like, and I wish I could take it away from you, but I can't.

"If I could ask you one favor, it's to not do the same thing that I did. I know I made the wrong choices. I know I turned down a road that led me nowhere, Hotch. Don't do the same thing, alright? See the damn psychologist." At this, she smiled slightly, letting out a light laugh. It felt good, as if she were letting something go.

"I've missed you guys more than I'd like to admit." She whispered, more to herself than to the unconscious man before her. "But I like to think I'm doing alright, despite all.

"I'm sorry I left the way I did, Hotch – sorry about everything that happened, that it's taken me so long to say that, that it's taken _this_ for me to say that. I lost a part of me back there." As if by itself, a single hand reached out and rested itself over Hotch's. "And I'm just starting to get it back."

Quietly, she rose from her seat, her hand still covering Hotch's, and leaned over the man who'd taught her so much about life, and placed a single kiss on his forehead.

"You wouldn't have let me do that if you were awake."

Picking up her purse, she moved unnoticed from the room, as if a ghost – a memory of things that used to be.

--

TBC

_Author's Note: _

_This one was before JJ's visit, obviously, and before Garcia's visit when he was breathing on his own. I felt this was one that needed to be written, and when a reader said she'd be glad to read it, I decided to write it. _


	7. Justice

Criminal Minds

_The bible had it wrong,_ Reid thought as he moved down the glaringly white hallway towards Hotch's hospital room, his briefcase slung over one arm. _On the sixth day, God created justice. _

It had been late afternoon by the time Reid was able to reach the hospital, relieving an exhausted JJ, who'd already been on her second shift, having switched with Garcia once already that day. Ever since the hospital had given them the okay to have someone with Hotch at all times, the BAU had turned it into an art. For the third day – the day he'd been taken off the ventilator- since Hotchner had been in the hospital, Garcia, Haley, and Sean had rotated staying with him, leaving JJ to deal with the media, and the rest of the team to be on the hunt for Foyet. Yesterday, JJ had finally calmed the media storm, and had been switching with the three of them for most of today and yesterday. He met on the way, her tired blue eyes filled with jubilant tears.

_Yes, on the sixth day, God had created justice._

Now, Hotchner had been moved out of ICU. The BAU would all be taking shifts – they were taking no more cases until he was out of the hospital. JJ was making sure of it.

With the threat of Foyet gone, they could all focus on their boss.

"How is he?" Reid asked JJ, tilting his head to the side – his profilers brain noting the tired quality of her steps, the exhausted expression on her face – yet he also noted that her chin was raised, a smile perched on her lips.

"Out of it," She answered. "They put him on fewer sedatives yesterday, but he's still groggy, not completely there." Her voice was soft, as if from this far away she was still afraid of disturbing him.

"How are you?" He asked, matching the quietness of her voice.

She smiled. "I'm alright - same as anyone, I guess. Will's been great - taking care of Henry nearly twenty four seven, no questions asked," She added. "How are you?"

"I talked to the doctor earlier today," Reid said in response. "And he gave the permission for someone to tell Hotch that we caught Foyet." Reid explained. "Rossi won't be able to be here until tomorrow morning, with all the paperwork that he has, and he said that I should be the one to tell him." No one could miss the happiness in his eyes at the chance to tell Hotch that he no longer had to worry.

"I'm glad- go give that man some peace." She touched Reid's shoulder briefly before ducking around him and continuing down the hallway.

--

It was odd, to see the name AARON HOTCHNER, in all bold, square, capital letters, dark, ominous, on a tiny slip of paper on the door. It sent chills down Reid's spine – if he were to think of all the agents on his team, Hotch would not come across the list of most likely to get injured. He was probably number one on the list, Morgan second – the man had a hero complex like nothing else – but not Hotch. The illusion of invincibility that hovered around him had fooled even Reid for awhile, but he knew better now. Nobody was invincible, nothing inconceivable, and it scared him.

He swallowed, his throat tight, before twisting open the doorknob.

Hotch was asleep, which alone was abnormal as the IVs hooked up to his arm. He blinked, fearful that this, too, might be an illusion – that he'd open his eyes and see the man that had been hooked up to a ventilator again, but when his eyes opened again, he was still there, and he allowed himself a sigh of relief, moving to the unoccupied chair. Hotch didn't awaken as Reid placed down his briefcase and unzipped It, pulling out a CD case.

"I may be a genius," He whispered, afraid to wake the man before him, "but I couldn't figure out how to mix a CD on iTunes, so I had Garcia mix it for me. Its jazz music," He explained, shifting in the chair. Why were hospital chairs so uncomfortable, didn't they know that people spent more hours in these chairs then usual? "It helps me relax, so I thought, maybe you would like to listen to some too." He placed the CD down on the table, his eyes on his knees.

"They have manuals for that."

Reid lifted his widened eyes, an expression of alarm taking over his features. "Sir, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright, Reid, I was already awake." He attempted another rare smile, with more luck than the last time he had. Hotch's voice was hoarse from disuse, his face pale, but he was alive – and Reid, of all people, knew the statistics of a gunshot wound. "How long have you been here?"

"I-" He paused, tilting his head. "If you were already awake, Hotch, wouldn't you know?"

Hotch frowned, dark eyes focused on Reid.

"I caught you, didn't I?" Reid asked, allowing himself a grin.

"Maybe," Hotch confessed. "But thank you for the CD, Reid. I appreciate it."

Reid shifted again, eyes on his hands. "You're welcome." He swallowed. "I- it's over, Hotch. We caught him, today. We got Foyet."

The unit chief's face went through several emotions – happiness, relief, gratitude, and, for a brief moment, regret that he hadn't been there to stop Foyet himself, and he held his tongue in a silent understanding, letting Reid continue.

The younger agent regarded him for a moment. "We followed him all the way to Indiana before catching up with him." Reid began. "He knows how to disappear, but we were one step ahead of him this time." He slowed his voice, nearly whispering. "It was like a war… he wanted escape, yet we wanted to catch him even more. We had the incentive, you know." He smiled, laughing.

"I don't think that I've ever seen Morgan tackle somebody to the ground so roughly before." Reid mused, seeing the replay of the day's scene in his eyes.

_The older agent was a missile, throwing Foyet to the ground with all of his bodily weight – there was no understatement of that, Reid could hear the thud of leaving breath as Foyet slammed into the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Morgan wrenched the man's arms behind him, cuffing them roughly behind his back, one knee on top of him as he leaned close to the man's ear ._

"_That's for Hotchner, you son of a bitch. Enjoy death row." He ripped the man from the ground, forcing him to a standing position, and Foyet grinned, letting his head fall backwards, eyes to the sky – a twisted laugh leaving his lips. _

_Rossi shoved the man into the waiting squad car, eyes hard and glinting with the day's victory. "You have the right to remain silent…" _

_Morgan turned, wiped his hands on his pants as if cleansing himself of the case, and nodded to Prentiss and Reid. A single, simple nod, summing up what each agent was thinking: 'It's over.'_

"_Let's go home." Prentiss muttered, eyes watching the horizon. "I want to go home." _

"_Me too," Whispered Reid. _

_Pink threaded itself through the horizon as the sun rose, breaking in the day. _

"He's in custody, and he's not getting out anytime." _Enjoy death row._ Morgan's words replayed in his mind. "The guards are making sure of it – three, assigned to his cell alone." He accentuated the last sentence, hoping to convey the security involved to his boss.

Hotch nodded, tired eyes suddenly a bit freer, noting the young man's portrayal of the security of the situation. He knew what his team thought, as well as they tried to hide it – that he worried, that he feared it would happen again – and perhaps their worries were not null, perhaps he did, somewhat fear this – but it was not for him he feared, but for others – his team, future victims… for his son. He didn't deserve to grow up in a world where men like Foyet existed.

"The team's alright?" Hotch spoke for the first time since Reid had told him of Foyet's capture.

"The teams fine," Reid said, surprised at the question. _We're better than we have been all week, actually. _"We're glad it's over."

"Me too." Hotch said, with a sigh, the tiredness returning to his eyes. "This case has been a long one."

"It has." And for once, he had no statistics, just four simple words. "But it's over now."

**--**

**TBC**

_Author's Note: _

_I'm glad I finally got the chance to write this chapter – don't worry, it's not the last – there are plenty more after this. I don't know yet just how many chapters that there will be, but if people are enjoying it and I still have ideas for chapters, I'll continue. Keep suggesting things – to those that suggested, all ideas have been logged in my head. Most of them I was already planning on doing, some of them gave me good ideas. _

_I hope you enjoyed- until next time, then! _


	8. Hang On

**Criminal Minds**

_It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, this glorious sadness,that brings me to my knees._

_-In the Arms of the Angel _

He'd been having a fight with his girlfriend when he'd heard it.

"I don't exactly care what your job entails, _honey._" Her voice had dripped sarcasm, Al had cringed.

"I'm sorry – it's been so busy, I don't… maybe this just can't work out." He'd muttered, immediately regretting the words, thought out loud.

"Maybe-" he could nearly see the way her pale fingers would move to click the receiver down, anger raging in those pale green eyes.

_Crack_.

It was a sound he heard nearly every day – being a cop in this small Virginia town, he'd heard it so many times that it nearly made him sick just to hear it – but it was out of place here, shockingly wrong, and it sent immediate chills down his spine.

Previous words forgotten, Deanna's voice was now a frightened, panicked sound. "Al-"

"It's alright, Deanna. I'm going to go check this out."

"Be- be careful."

He didn't answer, just clicked the receiver down, hand on the gun on the holster attached to his belt.

Nothing moved in the shadows of the apartment complex's hallway, but that didn't mean nothing wasn't there. He walked along the wall, creeping down the hallway – that sound had come from Aaron's apartment. Twenty nine year old Alfred had only just moved here last month, but Aaron had been one of the few people to nod him a greeting.

His back against the wall to the older man's apartment, he held one hand on his gun, steadying his rapid breaths.

"What's going on in there?" His eyes peered down the hallway – doors were opening. A woman in a nightgown held two young children by her sides. He could see from this distance her wild, bed ruffled hair, bright eyes wide in fear. One of the children was crying, using all his lung power. Down the hallway, a dog barked incessantly as a middle aged man stepped from the apartment.

"I'll call 911." Said the woman, disappearing quickly back inside her apartment. Her name was … Brittany, he remembered, the kids were Lana and Joe.

Al signaled the other man forward, to join him in investigating it. The man – balding hair, bloodshot and sleepless eyes, joined him without question.

"Richard," He said.  
"Al-" He paused by the door, then gathered all his strength and rammed his shoulder into it.

"You know this man's an FBI agent, right?" Richard whispered as they crept forward into the apartment. "Just divorced – has a kid, too."

Al ignored the babbling older man, moving through the entrance hallway – he saw the fallen agent almost immediately, the breath wooshing out of him. He rushed forward, training momentarily forgotten as he rushed to the man's side.

"Can you hear me?"

There was no response from the man on the ground; blood pooled beneath him.

"Hang on, sir." Richard felt the man's pulse. "It's weak, but it's there." He said, eyes wild and darting.

"I called 911 – they'll be here in three minutes." Brittany's voice came from just outside the door. "Oh… oh my God…" She spun, turning back to the door. "Kids! Back in the apartment, now!" From Richard's apartment, the dog still barked.

"You said he had a kid?" Al asked. "What's his name?"

"I – I don't know, I talked to him for five minutes at the most, Al."

"What's your kids name? I'm sure he wants to see you alive, man."

"_Jack_."

"Jack! That's it, it was Jack!"

"_Jack needs me." _

--

It was many hours later that night when Al returned to his apartment – he was shocked to find that sunlight was streaming through his window. He called in sick for work, and sank into the comfort of his bed – but not before picking up the phone and dialing a familiar number.

"Sweetheart-" He waited for the questions of the night's events to be done. "I- I don't want to lose you."

An apartment building, joined together. A relationship saved.

All with the single shot of a gun.

Author's Note:

I don't really know where this one came from – I guess I just wondered who would find him? What's his story, what was he doing? I didn't like this one that much, to be honest – I promise the next chapter will be much better. As much as we all want it to be one of the team – by the time one of the team would realize he was missing, it would be morning, and things wouldn't be so good by then. I figured, then, that it had to be someone from his apartment complex. Another version of this same idea is featured as a drabble in my drabble series, Ordinary Day, but this one's obviously a bit longer. Again, we're not done here yet! There are plenty more chapters to come.


	9. Try

**Criminal Minds**

**Rossi**

Most of his team assumed that the battle was over, a fight fought and won, with only the official court hearing and sentence to sum things up – but David Rossi knew better. While the enemy had been taken down, the war would not be over until all of his team was alright. Neither side had won until Aaron Hotchner was physically – and mentally – back on his feet.

Rossi had come to this team expecting coworkers- people he saw briefly at Quantico, longer while out on the field – and nothing more. He had not expected to care for these men and women, take an interest in their personal wellbeing – or have them perform the same for him. The day that Agents Morgan, Prentiss, and Jareau had helped him solve a twenty year old case had solidified it – these agents were more than a team.

He'd known Aaron for longer than the other BAU team members, which had made this case just a tad more personal. Aaron and Dave went back to before his retirement – long time friends. Rossi was certain that they'd arrest Foyet the moment news of Hotch's shooting had reached his ears – you didn't mess with friends of Rossi unless you were looking to be caught.

Rossi strode down the hallway – confident, driven- yet angered he hadn't been here sooner, since the night of the shooting he hadn't made it back here – that was the downfall of taking the case. Strauss had offered to give it to someone else, but Rossi had needed to see the bastard go down with his own eyes. To be sure of it. He needed to look Aaron in the face and tell him this monster wouldn't harm him again.

When Rossi arrived at the hospital room, a nurse was raising the level of Aaron's bed. She turned and nodded to Rossi before ducking around him and continuing to the next patient.

"Physical therapy starts today." Hotch confided, eyes on the older agent. The first session would be later that afternoon.

"That's rough." Rossi took the bedside seat, robbing a hand over his beard. The room was adorned in gifts – from the team and his family – and there was no missing the drawings that plastered the walls- drawings of Hotch, of Haley, and of times past and future.

"I'll get through it." Hotch answered, his voice level.

"I never said you wouldn't."

"I feel weak and powerless, Dave." Hotch admitted.

"You were shot and spent a week in a hospital bed – nobody expects Superman to walk through the door of the BAU any time soon." He was a profiler – and he knew Hotch. The man expected too much of himself – he no doubt on some level expected to be alright in another week, and be back at the job in the same amount of time.

"I feel like an old man." It was indeed the first time that Hotch was sitting in bed – even if the bed was raised to a sitting level, it was an improvement to be considered.

"Hey – there's no need to make it personal." Rossi joked.

"I feel like my grandfather." Hotch said, dark eyes trained on the face of the older agent, daring for a contradiction.

"At least you're not going gray. Unfortunately, I can't say the same." Rossi's words earned a much needed laugh from Hotch, however short it was. His laugh was a sound that most of the team had been certain they'd never hear again.

"I remember – I think it was about your third case with us – you talked an UnSub into letting a kid go without even standing." Rossi said, referring to the time before he'd been retired.

"Are you trying to tell me I don't need the use of my body to do my job?" Hotch asked, raising his brow and regarding Rossi curiously.

"No," Rossi said, cracking a smile. "I'm trying to tell you I've never seen anything like that before or after."

That elicited another well-needed laugh from Hotch, but Rossi didn't miss the strain that crossed Hotchner's eyes, the lines of his face contorting.

"I'm guessing if I ask you if you'd like a nurse, you're going to decline, so I won't ask." Rossi said as Hotch closed his eyes for a moment, waiting to regain himself as the wave of pain passed. "You are stubborn as hell."

"Jack's visiting later," Hotch explained. "And I want to be fully here for that." There was no missing the slew of emotions on Hotch's face – anticipation, relief, regret. Rossi nodded – he knew that pain medication would make Hotch drowsy, he understood that. Jack would be visiting his father for the first time since Hotch's shooting, sometime after the physical therapy. It was more than just an incentive for Hotch to get through that therapy; it was healing. Seeing his son, Rossi knew, would do wonders for the man before him. "I want to do well by him."

"You will." Rossi didn't waste time in answering. "You should hear the way he talks about you, Aaron. I don't think you could do wrong by that boy if you tried." The light in Hotch's eyes was rewarding.

"I don't want to try."

--

TBC

_Author's Note: _

_Most of you have been asking me for a Rossi chapter since I started- he's the one I'm least comfortable writing, but I figured, you guys have been god to me, so I'll try to do the same by you. There may be another Rossi chapter coming, and I'm probably going to go back in time, too – I've got Prentiss and Morgan to write, and they visited the day before this chapter. There are also a few surprise visitors in store. xD_


	10. No Longer

**Criminal Minds**

Author's Note (Quickly): I usually don't do them at the beginning of this story, but seeing as there has been confusion with chapters that go backwards in time, I'll clear that up: this one takes place the morning after Hotch was shot, very early morning – directly after the first chapter of this story – if you remember, Haley and Jack left the hospital around midnight. This takes place that same night, a few hours later. Sorry for the brief author's note.

**Haley**

The phone had rung at the crack of dawn; shaking Haley out of what she wished had been sleep. Numb fingers reached for the phone, buzzing itself on the table at which she'd been sitting. Her hand closed around it, fumbling for the answer button. The lit up screen –bright in the relative darkness of early morning – identified the caller as Jennifer Jareau. How many times had she called JJ in what seemed like a previous life, asking to speak to Aaron? Now, the woman was calling her. She'd promised that she would.

4:23 AM. She'd left the hospital with Jack nearly four hours ago. How many hours now had it been since Aaron had been shot?

Her thumbnail hit the answer button and she pressed the phone to her right ear. An unbidden fear rushed through her. Suddenly, she wasn't so certain that she wanted to hear the liaison's voice.

"Haley? Are you there?" The voice was so familiar that it startled Haley.

"I'm here, Jennifer." Haley responded, running a hand through her short blonde hair.

"The doctor just spoke with us," JJ began, repeating what had been said to the team just moments before. "He's in the ICU – I saw him for a moment. They're allowing visitors for brief times, until further notice. He's going to make it through this, Haley – he's not out of the woods yet, but-"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything." JJ said, caught off guard.

"You've said these words to dozens of families. Are you talking to me as a media liaison, or…?'

"A friend, Haley." JJ responded. "I'm talking to you as a friend."

--

She hadn't pulled an all-nighter since college, but on some level she hadn't even recognized the fact that she hadn't slept. It wasn't that the exhaustion didn't register with her, for it did: it buzzed in her head like the caffeine she craved. Time, however, had seemed to stretch: endless, infinite, yet stopped short and racing all at once.

The time was six am, two hours since JJ's call – the time it had taken for Haley's mother to drive down to watch Jack. She couldn't imagine what the young boy would think of all this – his mother didn't normally run off to leave his grandmother there instead, but hopefully he was still young enough to hold the innocence that children had. They would have to tell him something, eventually – that Daddy was sick, because there was no way that he was going to be spending the weekend with Aaron. All these worries and more raced through Haley's mind.

Standing before a closed hospital room door, she'd never felt so alone. The team was gone, having been sent home by the hospital – there was no more that they could do here for the time being, and they had work to do catching Foyet never-the-less. During their marriage, Haley had resented the team for stealing so much of Aaron's time.

Now, she wished at least one of them were there with her.

As her fingers closed on the doorknob; memories – good and bad- swarmed her vision.

_Jack asking why they were taking all their things when they left the house for the final time. _

_Asking Aaron not to leave on another case, this one on her birthday. _

_Him in a pirate's hat._

_Signing divorce papers. _

_Their wedding day. _

She blinked and pushed the door open.

Somehow, even though she'd known in her mind that it would be him lying in the hospital bed, her heart hadn't known it. It had to be someone else, because things like this didn't happen to people you knew, people you loved. You were invincible until you weren't.

It wasn't simply a possibility until the moment it happened. Haley nearly couldn't close the door, as if by closing it behind her she also closed it on the possibility that this was a nightmare, something she could wake up from.

She closed the door behind her, the click of it not lost among the puff of the ventilator and beep of machinery.

Her shoes made no noise on the floor; she was a visitor in this strange alien world of wires and beeps.

"Aaron." She said, making the figure before her real. "You're not allowed to do this, Aaron. Not to your son." The words felt strangled in her throat. "Not to me." She said, not quite knowing what she meant. "You have to wake up. You have to get better." Digging through her purse, she dug out the photo – Haley's copy of the picture of Jack that sat on Hotch's desk – and placed it on the wall, directly across from the bed. "You have to get well because of him."

--

She didn't know how long she sat in the café for, only that time seemed to be broken. The cup of coffee before her was untouched, but if she'd taken a sip she would have found it bitter and thick. Suddenly, any need for nourishment – prior caffeine craving included – had vanished.

Her answer was in the form of faraway church bells ringing in nine o'clock.

Three hours, she'd been lost among herself.

"Ma'am?"

"I'm sorry." She said to the voice, without bothering to look up, assuming she was hogging the table. "You can take my table."

"No." The voice was vaguely surprised, as if that wasn't the response he'd been expecting. "The café is empty… it's just us."

Haley lifted her eyes to the couple before her.

The man was pleasant looking, short cropped spiked blonde hair, tall and nearing his late twenties. The woman was shorter, and pale – pale skin, and pale green eyes, like the underside of a leaf during the summer, and short red hair.

The man's gray eyes looked as exhausted as she felt.

"Can I help you?" She asked, trying to be polite in an exhausted state of mind.

"They wouldn't give information over the phone." The woman began, remains of a southern drawl lingering in her voice. "So we came in."

"I'm apologize," Haley said. "I'm not hospital staff."

"No, you're Haley Hotchner, right?" She continued, and Haley didn't bother to correct her, just nodded. "I'm Deanna Martin, this is my boyfriend Alfred Benton." Her eyes met Alfred's.

"I found Mr. Hotchner last night, ma'am."

"Oh my…" She fought her brain for control. "I don't know what to… thank you. He… we have a son."

"I know. Jack." Al said, something clutched in his hand. "How is Aaron?"

"Stable." Haley replied, repeating in a monotone voice what she'd been told to two people who were no longer strangers.

"I wrote him a letter." Al said, holding out an envelope. "If you could…"

"I'll give it to him, yes." Haley said, trying not to allow ifs into the statement.

"There are flowers on the way as well, from some of the tenants there." Al continued, running a hand through his hair.

"I… why?" Haley asked, somewhat perplexed. She could understand the team sending him flowers, gifts – but these people had to hardly know him. What would be their reason for spending money on him?

"I've never seen so many people work together to save a life."

--

Later that night, with jack tucked safely into bed, Haley sat at her kitchen table, thinking of the flowers and gifts that had been sent to him. The large bouquet that had arrived was signed by Alfred, Deanna, Richard, Brittany, and, in the childish scrawl of two children, Lana and Joe.

Aaron was part of another world now, one that she'd forced him into. He belonged to others. He belonged to her son.

But no longer would he belong to her.  
Alone at the kitchen table, Haley put her head down, and, for the first time since the ordeal had begun nearly a year ago, she cried.

--

TBC

_Author's Note: _

_By ordeal, she means the divorce. This one's to my mother. Thanks for letting me borrow your shoes. They're giving my metaphorical blisters. _

_Sorry if this one was depressing. _


	11. Needed

**Criminal Minds **

**Prentiss**

She'd been the new girl for a long time, for most of her life. She was the one who always felt slightly out of place, as if she'd stumbled into the BAU and always had to overcompensate.

The new girl syndrome had faded; over time she'd stopped feeling like the house guest and more of a permanent resident. She still didn't know during which moment that had changed – perhaps it was when she'd known with all certainty that she was taking the beating for Reid. Maybe it had been when she'd felt such panic at knowing one of her teammates were in that car that had exploded. Or when Rossi had seen _her_ case through to the end.

Perhaps it was a combination of all of all of those; a gradual thing.

Upon stepping into the hospital room, all of those insecurities came rushing back. She'd felt the feelings for most of her life, moving around constantly, and recognized them instantly. There was something about the hospital room that made her feel as if she didn't belong, as if she'd stepped into an alternate reality.

It was late afternoon on the sixth day of Hotch's hospital stay, but Prentiss felt no exhaustion. Catching Foyet early that morning merely had fueled her. She didn't feel the effects of the forty eight hour sleep deficit, but most of her team was feeling it. She'd seen Reid briefly: he was tired but jubilant. A case that had gone so wrong had finally gone right.

The BAU were still keeping someone with Hotch most of the time. As Reid had mentioned, 40% of gunshot victims regressed. Prentiss hadn't known Elle Greenaway, and most of the team were reluctant to bring up the topic of her during the past few weeks, but from what Prentiss had been told and gathered, she'd been shot in her own home, and it had led to her quitting the bureau. While she couldn't see Hotch going down that same path – he was, both emotionally and physically, one of the strongest people Prentiss knew- it still spurred them to keep a close eye on him. It was easy to see in Hotch's eyes that he was still in pain, yet they knew there weren't going to be many more days when he allowed them to keep someone watching him. He'd already insisted that they go home during the nights on the fifth day – he didn't know JJ had slept in the visitor's lounge across the hall that night, flashing her badge at any questioners, or that tonight Garcia would be doing the same. Prentiss hoped, for their sake, that he never found out.

Her eyes settled on the man in question – he was awake, reading something seemingly hand-written on loose leaf paper. She stood patiently at the door. Prentiss hadn't seen him since he'd been on the ventilator – working the case had made sure of that. Seeing him awake, reading, was nothing short of a miracle.

"I hope that's not a case file." Her words crossed the distance as she stood awkwardly by the door, just as he'd begun to put down the paper. "That would be a little too much, even for you, Hotch."

"Am I that much of a work horse?" He asked, dark eyes regarding her calmly. Reid had just left the room moments before Emily had entered, and he allowed his team to humor themselves by constantly having someone by his side. In some faction of his brain, he didn't mind, even was glad for the constant presence of another being, thankful for not being alone. That was not what he projected, however- he showed them the man that was constantly in charge, even in the worst of situations, the one who pretended to be slightly perturbed of the constant attention his team paid to him. He put on a tough face, because that was what his team needed to see. It was what he needed to hold himself together.

"You tell me," Prentiss said, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms. "Is that really a case file?"

"No." He said with a slight smile. "Though I'm honestly starting to miss them."

"I was sick in bed with pneumonia for a week about ten years ago." She said, pushing away from the door to the chair sitting against the opposite wall from Hotch's bed. "I was tired of watching All My Children and Law and Order marathons by the third day."

"As the World Turns." Hotch said, shaking his head slightly. "JJ was flipping the channels," He explained. "We skipped the CSI marathon – watching crimes…"

"Too familiar?" Prentiss asked.

"Yes. But I don't want to see another soap opera."

Prentiss made a mental note to ask Garcia to bring movies, and one of those portable DVD players. She knew what that boredom felt like."I'll see what I can do." She said, crossing her ankles. "You scared us, you know. I've never seen Reid silent before. I think Rossi might have himself on made some of the nurses cry. Morgan was even spooked."

"I heard Morgan used excessive force taking down Foyet." Hotch commented, raising an eyebrow, even as his mouth twitched in a grimace and he shifted positions. Prentiss politely pretended not to notice.

"I think he used exactly the force necessary." She said, as if she were stating a fact. _It wouldn't have hurt for him to use a bit more_. She didn't mention the words, whispered like harsh bullets of air into the murderers ear. **Enjoy death row. **

"If that's your observation, then." She didn't miss the twinkle in his eye as he said it- somehow, she couldn't imagine she'd be too bothered by Foyet getting thrown to the grown if she was in Hotch's position either.

"Having to catch Foyet on our own made each of us appreciate having you." She admitted, almost as if speaking without thinking first. At his puzzled look, she explained. "We miss you – I mean, Rossi took control, but there was no doubt that we need you as our unit chief."

There was a moment of silence. "I think all of you did pretty well without me."

"Well, thank you. But we'd rather not try that again. "

"I could say the same." Hotch said, a smile gracing his lips.

"Do you need anything?" She asked, looking about the room- the water glass was still full, so she doubted that he would ask for water. The room was filled with flowers and gifts, more than she'd ever thought possible- there were also hand drawn pictures from his son.

"I'm alright." He answered upon instinct. "If, of course, you're all going to insist on keeping watch."

"We are." She answered. "I could go out and get some coffee while you take a nap, though. If you're tired." She paused, realizing that she'd made him sound like a kindergartener. She paused, trying to find words to explain her _previous_ words.

"I think I've caught up on all the sleep I've missed in my years in the bureau." He confided, eyes landing on the remote. "I have to admit, I didn't watch much TV before this. The only thing that I know is on right now is Rugrats and Blues Clues."

Prentiss couldn't help it – the tension released, she laughed. "I think the Addams Family is on."

--

TBC

_Author's Note: _

_I don't know why, but I found this to be one of the more difficult chapters to write. Things seemed awkward between them, I guess because he's more awake now. I hope that you're still enjoying reading these- I'm still enjoying writing them. _

_Also, weird ending, I know. I figured that Prentiss would help him release some of the anxiety that's been building up for him; that she'd let him know how much he's been missed. _

_Your surprise guest might just be coming up next. xD_


	12. Engrained

**Criminal Minds**

"Special Guest"

The roads were ones he'd driven dozens of times, but they were roads he'd never expected to take again. Sometime in the past, these streets – the turns, the names, and the feel of it under his car's tires- had become engrained in his memory, and he never expected them to leave. Also sometime in the past, he'd made the decision to never travel down the roads of Quantico, Virginia again- to escape into a world where violence wasn't going to find him- and he was breaking that vow now, his foot pressed to the gas pedal of his car, going slightly too fast- as he had been since starting the journey from California very early that morning. He'd taken the fastest flight he could find, and this was a rental car. The actions were unlike him, if one looked on the surface- racing, not thinking quite straight, not sitting back and analyzing the situation before taking off into the heart of it. Yet, if one pressed deeper into the matter, Jason Gideon was doing exactly what had always driven him in his heart – he was looking after his family. Even if they weren't exactly his anymore, even if they were someone else's now, because that didn't really matter in the end, it never had. What he needed to know was that Aaron Hotchner would be okay. Then, and only then, could he leave the town and move on once again.

The senior ex-FBI profiler had left no contacts, no ties with his former team, save for the letter that had left some form – if not the tiniest bit- of contact with Spencer Reid, a young man that he considered to be a son. Much like Elle, Gideon had learned of Hotch through different means – this time, a newspaper he'd bought early that morning. Even though he'd left the job that required him to be up all hours, like the roads that led him back to Quantico, the early hours and late nights were still engrained in his brain. It was by chance that he had seen Aaron Hotchner's name in the paper that morning, and, after a few calls, he'd found his way here to the hospital that Hotch was staying at. Hotch had been shot nearly twenty four hours ago by the time that Gideon ended up in the parking lot of the hospital, seven pm that evening.

He would miss Haley by moments- if he turned and looked to his left, two rows of parked cars behind him, he would have seen her car start and drive away, to head home for the night, to Jack. He didn't turn around, though, merely stopped the rental car and put it into park, resting his head on the headrest. For a moment, he turned into the Gideon that he hadn't been since reading the article in the paper – the calm, calculated one, the one who analyzed things.

For the past few years, he'd traveled, never staying in one place for more than two months. It was a restless sort of thing, something that he'd never done before in his life, and he'd enjoyed it immensely- it had been his time that allowed him to let go, to let go of the violent things he'd seen, the guilt over Sarah that he'd felt. No, it hadn't been his time to forget them – like the roads and like the internal alarm clock – the memories were a part of him, and he would not wish to trade them. Gideon couldn't leave those memories if he tried – they made him who he was, a much a part of him as skin or eyes were.

It seemed that the world had shot him back out where he'd begun, he thought as he exited the car, closing the door with a click that hardly disturbed any air. He made his way towards the glass double doors of the hospital, the night air cool around him, significantly cooler than it had been in California. It was later in the evening, and most likely visiting hours were over, and he would have to pull a few strings, nothing he hadn't done before. It would prove more difficult than it had when he'd been in the FBI, but Gideon was a determined man. He'd come here for a reason, and he wasn't leaving without fulfilling that purpose.

There were few people in the reception area now – there was a lingering woman at the gift shop with long, messy hair. Gideon's brain, long since embedded with the profiling frame of mind, saw deeper into her tired appearance. It wasn't a conscious thing that he did anymore, and he couldn't have turned it off if he wished to. When one had been a way for so long, it was nearly impossible to not return to that frame of mind.

The only other man in the reception area – looking less haggard but still tired- joined the woman, whom Gideon assumed to be his wife, in the gift shop, sliding an arm around her. The person whom they'd visited then had to be her father, or perhaps her mother, by the way he was comforting her. With the realization that he was still profiling the couple, Jason turned away from the lit up gift shop to the reception desk, where a young woman was almost done with her trade paperback romance novel. On further inspection, Gideon saw her name tag – Madison. Her bright red hair was short cropped by her ears.

"Can I help you?" The young woman asked, a girl really, perhaps in a first job position. Further towards the edge of the reception area, Gideon noticed the security guard.

"Yes, I believe so." Gideon said, meeting her eyes. "I'm here to see Aaron Hotchner."

The woman smiled kindly, hazel eyes set in a tired face. "Are you Jason Gideon?"

For once, Gideon was taken by surprise, and he studied the young woman's face for a moment. "I am."

"Visiting hours are over," She explained. "But I was told to let you through. You're with the FBI agents who were hanging around here last night, aren't you? They were here for quite some time." She explained, typing into a computer to see the room Hotch was located in.

"You could say I was with them," Gideon explained, and at her puzzled look, he explained further. "I used to be with them. May I have the name of the person who told you to let me through?" He asked kindly, questioning his suspicion but anxious to check on his friend.

The woman furrowed her brow, tapping her fingers on the spine of the book she'd put down. "He was one of the agents, I believe. Tall, young. Why?"

Gideon smiled, shaking his head slightly. He hadn't told anyone he was coming. "Nothing." Madison handed him a pass waving him through to the ICU room that Hotchner was in, which he took with a nod and a smile. "Thank you, Madison." He answered before heading off in that direction.

He wouldn't expect anything less from Spencer Reid.

--

As he head towards the ICU room, Gideon couldn't help but feel the memories resurfacing- memories of the time right after the bomb that had taken six of his team. During his time of desolation, Hotchner had been the one to take over the BAU team, stepping in and working immediately to make sure that nothing would stop while Gideon took a leave of absence. Many months later, when Gideon had come back – after six long months- there had been an unspoken agreement for Hotch to keep that going. It had been that way until Gideon had left the bureau- Hotchner acting as the Unit Chief but always turning to him for the guidance that he sometimes needed.

The door to the room was before him, and Gideon passed a tired hand over his face, suddenly feeling his age. Danger was always part of the job, and Gideon wasn't one of the people that was under the naïve assumption that things wouldn't happen to people you knew personally – but it always came as a shock when it happened. He hated it – seeing a friend in pain was one of the few things in the world that Jason Gideon truly hated.

He pushed open the thick wooden door to the room, the cool metal of the doorknob feeling odd on his skin. Upon stepping , he couldn't help but feel as if he'd missed decades instead of a few years. The room was already adorned in pictures – there was one of the camera variety, Jack had grown considerably since Gideon had last seen him – but there were also three _hand drawn_ pictures on the walls, on various colors of construction paper. The first one was on a blue piece of paper, drawn with crayons – a drawing of a mother, a father, and a boy, with a house in the background, a giant sun creeping up behind it. The boy was a little Picasso. The second drawing was done on green paper – this one had just a drawing of daddy. The final picture was indiscernible. Abstract, Gideon thought. His eyes took in the gifts around the room, reminding him of book that was in his briefcase. Seeing the various presents around the room was like seeing the team again, and he felt a pang in his heart. There was the unmistakable mark of Penelope Garcia, the flowers that had to be from JJ and Prentiss- his smile grew at seeing the other vase of flowers there, the three yellow roses. Gideon had long ago figured out his team, and he'd almost expected to run into his former teammate Elle Greenaway on the way there.

Gideon pulled the only chair in the room up to the side of the bed. In all his years working with Aaron Hotchner, Gideon had never not known him to be a man of strength and iron will. Hearing the beep of machinery, the puff of a ventilator, made him feel as if something were out of place. He couldn't help but feel as if it were him.

Gideon was quiet as he watched the man he respected lie in the hospital bed, hooked by wires to beeping machines. He didn't speak, as Elle had, he hardly even thought as he settled into the chair for the next hour and a half. It was Gideon's way – quiet watchfulness from the corner of a room, often hearing and seeing more than anyone else.

--

It was nine thirty when Jason Gideon started his car and pulled out of the parking lot of the hospital. He'd never expected to see any of the team again, and the previous hour and a half was certainly not the way he would have chosen to do so, but he felt as if he could breathe easier. He was assured after seeing Hotch that his old friend would recover from this – Hotch was a strong man. For the rest of the team, seeing the ventilator had come as a shock, as had seeing him lie so still and pale looking, but Gideon had seen it before.

Hotchner was breathing, and that was a miracle in itself.

Gideon had seen those that he loved perish in accidents like this. He had seen six men and woman he cared very deeply for die on his watch . He wouldn't have been able to sleep knowing that he hadn't visited his friend while in the hospitals if something had gone a different way.

And he felt that something was finally complete for him. That, finally, he could move completely on. He had finally said his goodbyes. Things would be alright from here on, Gideon was sure of it. Perhaps he would find somewhere where he could settle down for more than two months, where he could feel as if he were finally home – a feeling that he'd been missing.

Finally, things had felt final.

--

TBC

_Author's Note:  
I guess a lot of you guessed the special guest! We've still got plenty more chapters to come – I've got a chapter with Sean in the works, and a few of you asked if there were going to be any from Hotch's POV – one of those is in the works as well. Morgan's chapter is coming up, as is the possibility of another Rossi chapter. I watched Omnivore for the second time the other day – if you guys have any suggestions, please let me know! I love to hear from you guys, so please review – it absolutely makes my day every time. _


	13. Fathers

**Criminal Minds**

**Derek Morgan**

_Author's Note: Again, this is one of those author's notes to tell you where this fits in the story. This chapter comes sometime after Reid's visit, and before Rossi's. I also want to thank all of you for reviewing – I never expected this many reviews, and each and every time I get a new review, good or bad, it makes me happy – someone's reading my writing out there, and that makes me inexplicably happy. So, thanks again. _

The nurse looked beyond worn out; her blue scrubs were crinkled from a long day working. Her anti-freeze green eyes were level and steady as she approached the tiny family that waited like a huddled mass in the hallway – the same way that the BAU had only six days before. FBI Profiler Derek Morgan could see the distress that was buried beneath the exterior – the way her short blond hair looked run through, as if her hands hadn't stopped moving through it in thought. He noticed the way that her lips were pressed into a thin line, as if she didn't want to speak the words that lay behind them. Morgan was a profiler, and it wasn't something that he could turn off – and as he took a look at the family that awaited the nurse, he knew. He knew as he'd known all those years ago, when he was ten.

He'd been that boy that stood there now, brave eyes ahead of him as he faced the truth; knowing he was the head of the house now, that he had to protect his sisters and his mom, without a word from the approaching nurse. That he was alone in so many ways. That Daddy wasn't coming home. That he'd never come home, and that he had to buck up and not let it show, that he had to move forward and take care of them because nobody else could, and your neighborhood wasn't good.

He'd been that boy who held the sobbing mother and sisters, the one that wondered why there was no one there to hold him when he cried in secret at nights, unwilling to show it to those he felt obliged to protect, because nobody else could do it but him.

He'd walked that plank, he'd been that kid. He'd been the boy who'd lost his father.

Now, as he walked past the fragmented family struggling to remain afloat, he shook his head and grit his teeth, lids closed. "Pull it together, Derek." He hissed at himself, angered that he couldn't even walk through the hospital without finding himself relating to one of the patient's families. The past week would have been bad enough without dredging up the memories that lay just below the surface. Hotch was like a father to the entire team – and Morgan couldn't help but see the parallels.

It was true that the doctors had confirmed Hotch would be alright – he'd regain full mobility of his shoulder with the proper physical therapy, and it could have been a lot worse, all things considering – but Morgan still couldn't help but be spooked. Of course, he put on the usual demeanor- a rock, steady and ready to go, a brave face for the rest of his team that they could probably see past anyway. In fact, they'd probably seen past it when he'd taken down Foyet earlier that morning, but it hardly mattered. They'd all wanted to see Foyet go down.

He paused at the hospital door – funny how he'd kick down criminal's doors but was afraid to open this one – both afraid it would be Hotch and that it wouldn't be, knowing either way that he needed to open the door.

And so he did.

--

The face that greeted him was both the face of his unit chief and it was not – it was Janis, the two faced Greek god. He saw the face that Hotch presented and the face that he did not; Morgan shook his head inwardly and wished – not for the first time- that he could turn his profiler's brain off for just a moment. Maybe things would be easier that way, if he didn't see everything that lay beneath the surface.

"Hey, man." He said on entering the room, sitting on the chair across from Hotch's hospital bed. "Good to see you."

Hotch placed down the book that he was reading, sending the younger agent a conspiring look. "I won't tell anyone if you leave." If it had been the words alone, Morgan might have second guessed his presence, but the smile that accompanied them was the proof that he was only teasing him about the fact that he was "babysitting" a man ten years older then him. Then again, if he was feeling well enough to joke, perhaps things weren't that bad after all, though he could just be putting on an act.

"Ooh, that hurts." Morgan winked. " Not a chance, Hotch. I'm here to stay."

I brought this for you." Morgan said, reaching for the small box that he'd carried in with him. "CD player, heard Reid brought you a CD." He placed it on the table with a nod and then took his seat again.

"Thanks," Hotch said, lifting the book to show Morgan. "From Gideon, I believe."

Morgan's brow knitted. "Gideon, really?"

Hotchner nodded. "The flowers over there – the roses – are from Greenaway."

"Seems you bring in the crowd," Morgan said, his eyes on the three yellow roses. "I'm guessing you didn't see either of them?"

"They came and went before I was conscious." Hotch answered. "The cards said nothing, but it wasn't that hard to figure out."

"We are profilers." Morgan commented, resting his head on the wall behind him.

The room was silent for a moment, the type of silence that filled each available space in the room, broken only by the beep of distant seeming machines. When it was broken by someone's voice, it was Hotch's.

"You're uncomfortable in hospitals." It wasn't a question, and Morgan lifted his head from the wall to look at Hotch. "I noticed it when we were here visiting Reid. It's never when we're visiting victims, only one of the team."

Morgan was the listener, he wasn't the talker. He was the one who would listen and talk things out of others. It was one of the many trust issues that he had, but here, in front of a man that had almost died, something in Morgan snapped.

"It was my father." Morgan said, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees – he didn't meet Hotch's eyes directly, looked around instead of into them. He didn't want his unit chief to see the hidden sadness there. "Hospitals always remind me of my father's death. I was only ten, Hotch –" Suddenly his eyes were somewhere else, a time when he was younger, as he stopped talking abruptly and started a new sentence. "It's always worse when we're visiting someone we know." _And far worse when it had been life and death. _

Hotch knew that the team had made a decision long ago not to profile each other, and felt badly when he realized that had been exactly what he was doing, but it was hard not to – a reflex, really. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

"I was older than you when my father died from cancer." Hotch said, his throat suddenly feeling restrained, and he said no more.

"Can I ask you a question, Hotch?" He continued without waiting for an answer. "Does it ever go away?"

Hotch's face betrayed his answer before it was spoken. "Over time it gets easier, but losing someone – death or not – never goes away."

Though it had been the answer he was expecting, it wasn't the answer he'd wanted, and Morgan leaned his head against the wall again, letting the silence permeate the air.

When the time came and JJ knocked on the hospital room door, Morgan stood and regarded Hotchner with a raised brow. "I hope you're not thinking of doing this again, because I'd have to kill you myself then."

He left the room, feeling slightly better than when he had come in- for one, Hotch was quite alive, and though Morgan knew the statistics of gunshot wound relapses – they all did, thanks to Reid- Hotch was a strong man.

And, for once, Derek Morgan could walk the halls of the hospital without the ghosts of his past flickering behind his eyes.

_--_

_TBC_

_Author's Note: _

_This chapter took a long time, and I'm not so sure I like it, but its here and now its staying. The next chapters will be coming sooner than this one, and you can probably expect a case story from me sometime soon – not related to this or anything, and I don't know what It's going to be called yet, but I finally figured out all the details today._

_Anyway, hope you enjoy, please review, please and thank you! _


	14. Family

**The Criminal Minds**

Aaron Hotchner had never been one for gifts. He had never really been one for birthday presents, save for the ones that he received from his son. Making a show of things had never been his style, and when years ago, his profiling team had thrown him a surprise party, confetti and all, his embarrassment had been immediately evident. It hadn't helped that he hadn't even touched his coffee yet that morning. His team had since found other, subtle, yet still – as he saw- unneeded ways to celebrate his birthday.

The present gift situation was different.

As Hotch took in the various gifts around the hospital room, a smile crept onto his face. Gifts on a birthday had always seemed to be some sort of recognition, an unneeded embarrassment, and people spending money when they shouldn't. They'd been recognition of another year passed, and nothing more.

As said, these gifts were different.

At first he hadn't seen it as anything more than unneeded embarrassing items. As he'd glanced around the room, he saw the flowers, the balloons, the cards. The horribly large teddy bear that Garcia had bought for him sat on the window sill with a smile on its furry face. He'd immediately scowled, it was such a Garcia thing to do; he saw the cards and flowers from Elle and the book from Gideon, he saw his badge, his suit, the music and the walkman.

It was when he'd seen the gifts from his team that he realized the truth of them.

These gifts weren't a recognition of another year gone by, a pointless notation of time having passed.

They were recognition of a different sort, recognition of nothing less than caring. Each present was a symbol, a way of each team mate showing their worry, their care, for him, their unit chief. He felt the truth of it settle somewhere around his heart. His team, the ones he'd always considered a second family, felt the same way about him.

He'd received yellow roses from Agent Greenaway, along with a card letting him know just how much she knew that the team needed him. Elle was the sister that he'd never had, the older sister he'd thought strong enough until he turned around and realized it was too late to cover her back. That he'd already lost her and he couldn't go back and fix his mistake.

There were flowers from JJ, the sister who had been there through everything, the one that had always had his back and whom he'd forgotten to appreciate often. She was the true invincible one, the never-ending source of sunshine in their makeshift family, the one who had everyone's backs, who did it without being asked.

Agent Prentiss had collaborated on the flowers with JJ. She was the newest addition, the younger sister who worried about fitting in, but didn't need to. She was unsure, eager to prove herself to all, having come in after a blow to the team. She strived to be perfect without knowing that she already was.

Dave had left his badge, knowing it was a source of comfort when so much was wrong. He was the brother with whom he could communicate without words, who hadn't started off as a team player but turned into one.

Morgan had bought him a walkman. The simple gesture managed to put a smile on Hotch's face. The man was an older brother to some, yet a younger brother to Hotch himself. The older man watched out for him, kept him in line, smiled when he did something he was proud of, worried whenever his hero complex came into play.

Reid had mixed him a CD of jazz music, relaxation for when his eyes grew tired of reading. Dr. Reid was the son that Hotch had not expected, the young genius that he feared he'd failed, only to realize he was stronger than he'd thought.

Gideon had been Hotch's second in command, a trusted confident, the one who had gotten the team on their feet. Without him, nothing would have been possible, he'd been the mother. His book, sent without a note, needed no explanation. It was just there, as he'd always been.

Garcia's teddy bear reminded Hotch of exactly what she was to all of them – the big sister, care-taker, and best friend rolled into one. She was the one who fought your battles from behind the scenes, the Mary Poppins who brought the spoonful of sugar wherever she went. She was the reason that they remembered to smile.

The best present that Aaron Hotchner received, however, did not come from a team member. The greatest gift he received could not be gift-wrapped, and, in fact, the more time that passed, the harder it would become for the unit chief to hold on to this one.

For now, Hotchner would hold onto his son with all of his remaining strength.

--

TBC

_Author's Note: _

_For all of you who are about to yell at me – the story isn't over yet! The next chapter is about Jack as well, a continuation of this one. This chapter takes place the day after Rossi's chapter. I hope that you liked this chapter – I enjoyed writing it. Please review! I did, after all, give you two chapters in one day. _


	15. Superman

**Criminal Minds**

His son is the reason for everything. The young boy is the reason that he continues this job as he does. He is not only the reason for Aaron's continued existence, but for his existence all together. When he'd lie dying, Jack Hotchner had been the reason he'd persevered. Jack would be the reason that, even after this most recent brush with death, he would return to his work, would continue to take the menaces off the streets – for Jack. It was always for Jack.

Haley didn't bring him to the door of the hospital room – JJ did. The two agents had shared a look, J.J.'s unspoken apology. Haley hasn't visited since he's been awake – though he knows she's visited when he was unconscious. The picture that she left of Jack is a testament to that. He doesn't hold any grudge against her for that – she will come when she is ready, and not before. JJ brought him to the door because he is more familiar with her than any of the others – and because Haley is as well. There were countless times when the liaison and his ex-wife spoke, messages passed.

He doesn't know that she's standing near to the room, unable to force herself to see him awake. There was a difference in seeing him asleep, so broken – but now that he is awake, going to survive, she can't force herself to see him – because he could answer her. He could ask her to leave.

No, he doesn't know.

"Daddy!" His son's voice is a healing elixir, better than the medicines that any doctors could give him – Hotch is not naïve, and he doesn't believe that he could have gone home to his son without a stay in the hospital and have everything be alright; Jack is merely more therapeutic and _healing_ to his mind than the physical therapy that he endured earlier that morning. "Daddy, I missed you. I missed you so much –" The boy pauses and spreads his hands apart. "THIS much."

"That's a whole lot, buddy." For the first time that week, Hotch is not living in the past or thinking to the future – he is in the moment, reveling in the pleasure that is a father finally able to see his son. He had the doctors prop him up earlier, so that he wouldn't be laying down when his son came to visit.

"Mommy said that you're a hero."

The phrase is enough to shock him into silence, but it doesn't matter, because his son continues talking. "She says they caught the bad guy because of you. You're like Superman, Daddy."

"I'm like superman, huh?" He still can't believe how well Haley handled the situation with their son. He was supposed to have spent the weekend with Jack – but recent things had changed that.

"I like being Superman's son." He comes up to the side of the bed, and Hotch pats the edge of it. Someone told him to be careful, for he sits down slowly and turns to face his father. "It's okay, Daddy. You know that, don't you?"

"What's okay, Jack?" He's puzzled now.

"That sometimes you can't catch the bad guy yourself. Sometimes Superman gets hurt, too. The green stuff … the … kr.. kryto…"

It very nearly amuses Hotch that his son is comparing George Foyet to kryptonite. "Kryptonite?" He teases his son, ruffling the boy's hair.

"That stuff." He affirms, nodding his head and smiling. In response to the hair ruffle, he reaches up and ruffles his father's hair, a grin plastered on the innocent young boy's face. In a movement that is nearly too slow, too strained, but there non the less, Hotch tickles his son's stomach. The resulting laugh from the young boy is the sound of innocence, the sound of youth and all that is to come and to pass.

"Mommy says you'll be here awhile." He says after a short expanse of time has passed. His voice is sadder now.

"She's right – just for a little while longer, buddy. You can come and visit any time." Jack carefully curls up to his father's uninjured side – how he knows to do this is unimaginable. Aaron leans over and whispers in the young boy's ear- "I love your drawings."

Jack closes his eyes, and so does Hotch – and for the first time in awhile, Hotch feels complete.

It is in this way that JJ finds them when she returns.

---

**TBC**

**Author's Note: **

**I'm so sorry about the long wait. The next few chapters (minus a chapter that comes earlier in the timeline and contains one very special visitor) are going to be extras – and if you want to suggest some things, please go ahead and do so. The man who found him – his letter is going to be one of those extras. **

**This one's dedicated to the people of PC, Agni, and also the two people – who I shall call Dawn and Abby – who were quiet for a long enough time for me to write this. **


	16. Evil

**Criminal Minds**

**Sean Hotchner**

_Author's Note: This chapter takes place sometime after Haley's visit, when Hotch is still unconscious and in the ICU. _

Evil had hit him square in the chest. It was an evil that the man had not encountered in his years 0 an evil with such malicious intent that it left him shaken from cities away. An evil that left the man completely helpless as to what to do.

The evil was worse because it was human. How could something so familiar to him – seemingly human but that which he considered otherwise – commit this act? He couldn't have – not a human.

He couldn't wrap his mind around this type of monster's existence – sure, his elder brother fought hem each day – but somehow, like many people, he couldn't truly accept that they lived in his world, breathed his air, walked on his earth …

Had hurt his brother.

No, he couldn't accept these facts without losing who he was. Sometimes, when a person is faced with a simple fact so appalling, he has nothing left but to deny its very existence. He can deny it even if he has seen it face to face, even if he once was nearly a lawyer to it. He does so simply because he must, for he risks himself otherwise.

Sean Hotchner could understand that his brother had been hurt by one these men, but could not accept the sheer being of him. A mental image of this man he could not conjure up.

He hadn't answered his phone when Haley called – after the first two calls, he'd silenced the ringer. Perhaps he'd known of his brother's accident – a small inkling of danger in his subconscious – that had caused him to do so. Maybe he'd thought that by not knowing, he could hold off the truth of the matter.

Either way, when his brother's team's media liaison had called in the morning, he'd answered the phone – because his brother's team didn't call him. Because something was wrong, and that was the final warning. He'd known then what he'd assumed to be a matter trivial was nothing less than mortally serious.

"You're not allowed to do this, Aaron." He said, not knowing that he'd copied Haley's words. "You're not supposed to do this." His voice cracked as he amended his sentence.

This was the brother who'd never stopped trying to do for him what he'd thought was right. It was the older brother who'd given him advice and kept him safe. It was the brother who'd helped him with his thesis and his first break up. The brother who'd taken care of him when Dad had died.

"It's my turn now, Aaron." He laid a hand on his brother's. "You've taken care of everyone for so long. It's time for me to take care of you now." His voice cracked again as he gently squeezed the unresponsive fingers. "All you need to do is get better. That's your only job, alright?" He felt as if he were six or seven, a child, begging his older brother to get better. Because, if he was being honest, that was all he really needed - his brother to get better. He needed his brother like he needed air, even if they didn't always get along.

He wanted Aaron to wake up. He wanted to know that he was alive. The breathing that the machine did for him - that didn't signify that he was alive to Sean. He wanted to see the real proof. He wanted to tell him how sorry he was for not being able to stop this. "I feel like this is a bad time for a reunion, Aaron. I haven't seen you for awhile." He realized how formal he was sounding, and his eyes traveled to the heart rate moniter. As long as those lines kept going up and down, his brother was alive, right? No matter if he thought that those lines were just little digital representations and he needed to hear his brother speak ...

He looked down at his knees and then back up at the clock, not sure of what to say, and running out of time to say it in.

"Hey, Aaron?" He said, looking at his brothers closed eyes, thinking he saw his brother's eyes moved under the lids. "I love you."

And, just for the smallest amount of time, Aaron's eyes opened.

And he smiled.

--

TBC

Author's Note:

There are one or two chapters left - it depends if you want me to include Al's letter to Hotch or not, so let me know - also, Hotch's eyes opening werent so much of him waking up - he didn't, this is his first day in the hospital and is completly unconscious - but do you know when someone will kind of wake up for an instant and look at you? That's what that was.

Anyway, thanks for reading!


	17. Letter

**Criminal Minds**

Aaron,

You won't know me. We met once or twice, talked about trivial things. I'm your next door neighbor – just one apartment over. My name's Alfred. I don't do these letter things often, but Deanna – that's my girlfriend – urged me to write one once I mentioned I had the thought. I'm proposing to her tomorrow night – that's sort of why I'm writing this letter.

I'm sure I won't see you again – if it happened in my home I wouldn't want to go back either. But if you see – on your window sill – there are a whole bunch of flowers. They're from everyone in the complex. We're not talking one or two people here, Aaron. Everyone chipped in.

Last night, Deanna and I were on the phone. The two of us were arguing about something trivial – hardly remember it anymore – but that's what I was doing when I heard the shot.

You don't need a recount of what we – Richard and I- found. All that I know is I never saw an apartment complex work together like that before, and I never have seen it since.

And you said his name, too. Jack, your son? He's lucky to have you.

Deanna heard the shot over the phone and when I entered your apartment and found you, I guess I realized – how precious all of this is. Life. How quickly things change. And I realized I didn't want to lose Deanna.

Thank you for that.

I hope, from all this, you can take that same lesson. Your son needs you. Find love, and when you do, don't let it go for anything.

Like I said. I'm not very good at this letter writing stuff. But I had to try.

_-Alfred_

He read the letter for the final time and put it by his bedside table, folding it neatly in the creases the same way that he'd done a million times since he'd seen the letter lying on the windowsill next to the flowers. Alfred's letter was something he'd never fathomed. Had something good really come from all of this? Had someone found happiness, in al of this? Was that even possible? He didn't know. He wasn't sure if there was a blessing in it, but he'd like to believe that there was. He'd like to believe that there could be.

There should be.

He picked up the letter again and stuck it in his pants pocket. He would take Alfred's words with him wherever he went. He was leaving tomorrow afternoon - in less than twenty four hours, the first stage of this nightmare would be over.

He knew, somehow, that there wouldn't ever be a true end to it. There would never be a true end to all of this. The fight would be ongoing.

TBC

**Author's Note: **

**I hope that you guys are still enjoying this. I know this was a short chapter, but I couldn't help but write Alfred's chapter. There's only one more chapter left- and it's going to be much much longer than this one. Please review – reviews make me want to update that much faster. xDDD**


	18. Blessing

**Criminal Minds**

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.  
**Robert Frost**

Maybe there was a blessing in it. He couldn't say for sure, not yet. He couldn't completely hate the Reaper. There was a hate there, yes, but the hate wasn't solely for what he'd done to him. No, there was hate for what he'd put his team through – the worry and the fear- and for what he'd put his family through – but the pain that Aaron Hotchner had gone through, he figured, was a small price to pay for what he'd received in return.

Because what the Reaper – George Foyet, just a man – had done to him had given him more than just the scar on his chest. Scars could be covered, pain ended – but other things, they continued. Some of them were unsavory, but most of them had something underlying, the lesson that so many people missed these days in experiences.

He'd given him fear. Aaron had never considered himself invincible, like so many men and woman did. Aaron Hotchner knew that he was human. The fear had existed long before these events. The prior week had extended his fear to include the fear for all humans. He'd always known the monsters existed, but now – he could more clearly see the other side, the victim's side – if a human could instill such fear, what did that mean for mankind? Did it mean that hope was doomed? No, he couldn't believe that. It meant, undeniably, that mankind had to work harder. Could they? He couldn't speak for them, he was only one man.

George Foyet had given him death. It was not his first taste of death and it won't be his last. It is, however, the most important. For that time, when he lay dying, he was alone.

Aaron Hotchner didn't want to die alone; he didn't want to live alone.

He was left with a want. With a need.

He'd lived his life alone. He didn't want to die alone. His son, his Jack, cannot fill that hole in his heart, because it was a different sort of love that he needed.

Ironically, a man who called himself a bringer of death had given him life; given him a second chance. He could see now. He could see his mistakes. He hadn't been there. He needed to be there. He wanted to be there, for his son. He didn't want to live his life without participating in it. When he's with his son, he won't think about the next case. The Reaper had taught him how to live. He regained his son.

And, though it's not the last thing he'd been given, Hotch knew hope. Hope for himself and for his team. Maybe they're not invincible, his team, but they're strong. They're strong enough to weather what will be thrown at them in the future.

Yes, a bringer of death had brought him life. It was the ultimate irony for him – what would that man, only a human, think of that? How his intentions had been turned around?

Perhaps if he didn't have all the people that he did, the Reaper would have succeeded in bringing death – if not the physical kind, then the sort of death that had plagued Elle or Gideon, the sort that plagued victims that can't get the images out of their heads. Hotch knew that he'd be fighting the images for a long time as well, but he could see through them too. He could see through them to the other side, the side that held love and hope and life, instead of death and despair.

He couldn't have done it without them – if he had been alone, he knew he would have failed in it. But he did have them, his team, his family – though all in a different way, he had them. He had David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia. He had his son. He had Haley, because he knew that she wouldn't' fail his son as a mother. He had the ones that he failed – Jason Gideon and Elle Greenaway, their presents proved something to him that he hadn't known before – that maybe he hadn't failed them. Maybe their leaving was just how they'd dealt with the misery that had plagued him.

Elle had told him to smile.

He would.

Gideon had left him a book – a biography of Charlie Chaplin. In a way, he, too, was telling him that he was allowed to smile – to not forget the lesson that was taught the day that the BAU had sat and watched the silent film – to never stop smiling, to always find the peace in the day, no matter how hard it might seem.

They would be there for him, always, and this had proved that. Not only were the BAU at team, they were also a family. When divided by tragedy or heartache, they would ultimately stick together.

The BAU had gathered in Hotch's hospital room on the day or his release. Agent Spencer Reid couldn't help but see the parallel between this moment and the one of a week prior, when they had been waiting in the emergency room. Both moments had included waiting, and a certain amount of fear of the unknown. Both times, the team seemed to exist in their own separate sphere, oblivious of the world around them – a sphere that encompassed only them. This time, though, the team waited for something different. Instead of waiting for a verdict, they waited for the doctor to ender and officially release their unit chief, to put an end to this nightmare. And of course, when they'd been waiting to find news of their boss last time, this time, their boss sat before them – if not healthy, then on the way to being that.

Agent Emily Prentiss sat perched on one of the plastic chairs, a smile gracing her lips. She watched with amusement as Morgan playfully put Reid into a headlock. This team, the one that she'd been put on in such strange circumstances – she finally saw she'd been accepted into them a long time ago. They were the family that constantly moving and an overworked mother had never provided.

Agent Jennifer Jareau sat on the windowsill, her blue eyes finding the picture of Jack Hotchner still attached to the wall. She'd witnessed with her own eyes Hotch's love and devotion for his son. Finding both Jack and Hotch asleep, the latter finally able to catch a moment's peace, had urged her to call home and talk with Will. That night, they'd gone out to dinner – the three of them, a family.

After receiving high pitched squeals of protest from Reid, Derek Morgan leaned his arms against the back of Penelope Garcia's chair. He hadn't trusted many people in his life, and for awhile, that had included the team – even if he couldn't admit it to himself. But now, sitting in a hospital with smiles and laughter filling the room, he could see that he'd begun to trust them more fully than he'd trusted anyone in his life.

She'd been afraid and hurt – her ducklings had gone off and chased a killer once again. One was already injured – she couldn't have stood it if another was hurt by this man. She'd felt her whole world crumble when Morgan had called to tell her of Hotch – but no, Garcia's world was whole again. Her family was okay. For one more day, at the very least. As long as they were safe today, she could breathe.

Sitting on the other side of the windowsill after his run-in with Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid was smiling. He knew perhaps best of all, that it would be a long haul for Hotch – but, like they'd been for him, the team would be there. There was a hopeful light in his eyes that the end of the ordeal had renewed. He saw the book on the bedside table and smiled, knowing who it was from. When he finally got the chance to check his mail back home, he'd find a small note – just three words – 'thank you, son', and that would be enough. He didn't need the why or the how, not anymore. The simple fact of acknowledgement, of closure, was enough.

David Rossi was the only one who remained standing. The senior profiler crossed his arms against his chest and leaned against the wall next to Prentiss' plastic chair. Looking at the team around him, he realized that he'd finally begun to understand. This was more than a team – they were something that couldn't be broken. There were families that he knew that weren't this strong. They were stronger. As Reid knew, Rossi also knew that this wasn't the end of this long, painful journey for the man before him, but it was the end of one part of it. They were leaving the woods; they could see the light now that shone through the canopy of leaves.

Aaron Hotchner sat on the edge of the hospital bed. No longer did he wear hospital clothes. In true Hotch fashion, he sported a suit and tie, though the tie was worn looser. Dark eyes settled on the group before him – a group that despite his grumblings of the prior week, had stayed with him every step of the way. He'd given up a part of himself to allow that to happen – but it was a good trade.

"And if you think, Derek Morgan, that I'm going to allow that, you're mad as a hatter!"

"Luckily for him …" Rossi responded, a sly grin appearing. "He is."

"I love Alice in Wonderland as much as the next woman, but you're taking home that bear, boss-man." Penelope Garcia's expression was unrelenting.

"He merely suggested you allow Haley to take the bear for Jack." Reid suggested, but JJ shook her head.

"Spence, it's no use."

"Damn right." Garcia said, and finally got a laugh out of Hotch. "That bear is for _you_, Hotch."

"Don't worry, Garcia. I'll take good care of him." Hotch said, another small grin playing on his lips. He paused a moment before continuing. "I didn't make this week easy for any of you – I apologize if I was openly hostile."

"Oh, you weren't that bad." Garcia supplied, having seen the earliest days of it – once when he'd indeed been unwelcoming. She doubted he remembered it – he hadn't been truly conscious.

"Define 'that bad'." Rossi answered, setting Hotch with a look.

"He told me he wouldn't tell anyone if I left." Morgan said, but was grinning. "In your defense, you were joking. I hope."

"He wishes." Prentiss supplied.

The group laughed. It felt nice after a week where nobody had been certain if laughter would again be attainable. After a week of stress, misery, loneliness – it was comfort to be in the same room, waiting not for a case but the hospital discharge of a friend.

Strauss had ordered the whole team on a mandatory week long sick leave. On most occasions, the agents at hand would have complained – but this time, they all knew the break was needed. Hotch would be MIA for longer – though probably shorter than was normal, Rossi thought. Hopefully he'd manage to spend some time with his son before heading back to the job – Rossi was sure that he would.

"Mr. Hotchner?"

The voice – familiar now – came from the doorway and seven heads turned to see Doctor Breslin standing at the door. Nobody spoke, as if the slightest sound might cause the man before them to disappear. Their eyes trained on his face, considerably more youthful when not under tremendous stress. "How are you, Aaron?" If he was distracted by the large gathering, he didn't show it. He'd grown used to the large group of agents, even come to enjoy the atmosphere of family they'd created around his patients.

"I'm fine." Hotch answered. His answer was not evasive, but merely his personality "A twinge here or there, nothing more than expected."

Doctor Breslin smiled. "I'm glad to call your recovery so far a success, Aaron. I see no reason why I shouldn't send you home – provided you have someone to stay with you for at least two days." He looked around the room. "I don't see a problem there."

Much to Hotch's glare at him, Rossi confirmed. "It won't be, Doctor. Thank you." It had already been established that Hotch would be residing at Rossi's for two days. Rossi fully expected a list of reasons why he didn't need to stay with him while they were driving home. After those two days, he'd be going home – another step in the journey.

It would be a long journey, but it was one worth taking.

And as he took his first steps out of the hospital room as a freed man, Aaron Hotchner knew that with absolute certainty.

**The End **

**Author's Note: **

**I can't believe we've landed ourselves in the final chapter. It's been a long journey, much like Hotch's – my throat is all tight writing this author's note, because I don't want this story to end. At the same time, however, it's an amazing feeling of completion. **

**Thank you, each and every one of you, for reading, for reviewing, for staying with me over this story. All of you are amazing. For each and every one of you that I messaged, gave suggestions – for each and every one of you that clicked this story, this story is dedicated to you. **

**For now, **

**SSW**


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